Leave Diane out of it.

"Wingman?" You point to yourself innocently. "Terry was supposed to play wingman for me. Know any cute, single sporty girls looking for a date?"

Sadie gives you a blank look. "You're full of shit."

"No, seriously." You take a seat next to her. "Lucky for me, Terry latched on to some blonde chick early on... now that I think about it. He did seem really enthusiastic about coming to this party."

"Yeah. That sounds like Diane, alright."

"Hey, I'm not complaining. Better than Terry crying at me all night about not being able to find a date. So... if you don't mind me asking--"

"No. I'm not interested."

You lose your smile, replacing it with genuine disappointment. "You went to a party like this... and you didn't even consider meeting someone?"

"Exactly. Diane dragged me to this stupid party to drag her stupid ass home _when _she gets piss drunk. You see, she has this bad habit of being really loose when she has a few beers in her. So in other words, I'm _her _wingwoman."

"Sounds like a crappy job, but hey, at least you have an excuse not to drink." Your words trip her up a bit. So you go on. "I usually have to drink a few beers to get myself talking, otherwise I clam up. But it's the only reason I really drink. So in this case, I'm pretty lucky. I have a pretty good excuse to hang out with your tonight, then."

"Yeah... I guess you do." Tension flees from her shoulders and she gives you a smile. You have a good feeling its a real one. "You don't like drinking then?"

"Nah. Taste doesn't do anything for me. And I don't really get the appeal of drunken sex-- it tastes bad enough the first time."

Sadie laughs. "Yeah. You got a point there. You uh... into sports?"

"I go to the games to hang out, but I don't play anything," you say. "I'm sure you can tell from my killer bod." You flex an arm to make your point and your sarcasm hits home. Sadie seems pretty sharp.

"It's cool. The training lifestyle is overrated if you ask me. Gotta wake up early, work to exhaustion. It's a pain. I'm into Track, not that you would know, the school loves to pretend we don't exist. If it's not football..."

"Yeah I know the feeling."

You get the strong impression she's not super crazy about being on the track team. You could probably get away with trying the notebook's magic on her (and with a clear conscience). It just might be a little tricky to do it without getting caught.